Darcy's Madness
by maggib
Summary: What if Darcy had left Netherfield believing Elizabeth to be in love with Wickham? What if Bingley had informed him of Lydia's disappearance, her elopement with Wickham? What if Darcy seeks out Wickham, to avenge himself and Elizabeth's broken heart? What if instead of finding Lydia with Wickham he also finds Elizabeth?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Darcy entered the room, slamming open the door. There in the corner huddled in a ball was Lydia Benet, clasping her gown to her breast. And at the bed was Wickham, that bastard. He was pinning a woman down to the bed, one hand around her throat as the other was on her naked hip. The woman's gown was wadded around her waist. Lydia was screaming, terrified. It was the words that she screamed that tore at Darcy's soul, "Lizzy, Lizzy!"

Darcy threw himself across the room wrenching Wickham off his prey, slamming his fist down into the ass's face. Wickham was on the ground and Darcy turned back to see her. Elizabeth, his Elizabeth. She was pulling herself up from the bed; her eyes glazed over, marks on her skin, her lips bruised and swollen, blood trickling down from her sweet mouth.

Wickham made the unfortunate statement, "Darcy, they are just country girls, no need for such violence. We can share."

Darcy picked him up with one hand, his fury enraging him and proceeded to pound his fist in Wickham. Wickham was clinging to the large hand that was clasping his throat, kicking his feet. Darcy pounded his fist into the ass's head over and over again until he felt her hands, tiny hands on his arm, pulling him off. "Please, Sir. You will kill him!"

Darcy turned on her, hissing, "And would that matter to you, Madame?"

Elizabeth was staring at him with those eyes, those damn eyes that he could not resist. "Yes, yes it would matter."

Darcy spat at her, "So nothing changed for you. Despite this, he still holds your affection?"

Elizabeth shook her head, tears were streaming down her face, "Sir, please. You cannot kill him. It would be murder and I will not see you hang for the likes of him!"

Darcy relaxed immediately. His hand left Wickham's throat and the ass fell to the floor gasping. Darcy reached out for Elizabeth's hand and pulled her to him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Elizabeth was trembling, "He had my sister. I could ask the same of you, Sir."

Darcy glared at her, "I heard from Bingley that Wickham had eloped with Miss Lydia. I was honor bound to find him and rescue her from him."

Elizabeth shook her head, "I do not understand why you would feel so."

"If I had made his nature known, if I had dealt with him as I should have. If I had not sought to protect my families name, none of this would have happened."

Elizabeth's sister was crying for her, "Please release me and let me go to her."

Darcy did so and Elizabeth flew to her sister's side. Wickham was beginning to regain his senses on the floor. "Miss Elizabeth holds your affection? So glad that I had the opportunity to taste her first, always a pleasure to test the waters for you, old chap."

Darcy kicked Wickham in the ribs with all his might and then a second time in the groin. Elizabeth cried for him, "Mr. Darcy, please."

He went to her, finding her wrapping her sister in a blanket. "Please help me get her out of here."

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, "Can you walk?"

"Of course I can." Darcy scooped Lydia up in his arms and made his way out of the room commanding, "Stay right behind me."

"I would not do otherwise, Sir."

Elizabeth followed Darcy down the stairs into the main room; her hand touched the center of his back. Her hand made a fist over his coat, hanging on for dear life. At the bottom as he paused looking about the room. There were a few unsavory men standing at the bar. One of them started towards them. Darcy looked at him, "Come near me or mine and I will kill you."

The man backed away. Elizabeth followed closely behind him. He knew it for her hand was touching his back, gripping his coat. Once outside Darcy whistled for his man. A carriage approached with Dan, Darcy's coachman atop. Darcy hissed at Elizabeth, "Get in quickly."

Elizabeth did as she was bid. Darcy followed easing Lydia onto the seat beside her. Elizabeth immediately took her sister's head into her lap and soothed her, trying to ease her sister's tears. Darcy climbed in, sat opposite her, staring, glaring and fuming at her. Elizabeth's tears started to fall in great rushes. Darcy hissed, "What, prey tell, brought you to that fowl place?"

Tears were falling heavily, yet she made no sobs. "I received a note at my Aunt and Uncles home. Lydia must have slipped it to someone, asking for help. My father and my Uncle were out searching. I could not wait."

"Unescorted, unattended, without protection?"

"She is my sister! Would you not do anything, give anything, endure anything to protect Miss Darcy?"

"You know that I would, yet I am a man."

"Are my feelings of love and devotion for my sister any less than yours because of my sex?"

Darcy looked at her, quiet and silent for a moment. His voice eased, became gentle and caring. "Of course not Miss Elizabeth. I must ask; are you harmed?"

Elizabeth looked down at her sister's face, sobbing. She could not say in front of her sister. She could not bring herself to speak of it. She nodded her head in affirmation of his worst fears. "Do not speak of it? I shall take care of everything."

Elizabeth looked up at him, "I can not allow that Sir. You are released from any sense of duty, honor. Just getting us out of there, I can never repay you."

Darcy shook his head, "This does not end here Elizabeth."

She was silent and focused on her sister. After a while she looked out at the night. Suddenly she startled, "We are not heading to Gracechurch Street? I do not recognize this place."

"I am taking you to my home."

Elizabeth looked up at him, "What ever for? You must return us to my Uncle's immediately. My family will be so worried!"

Darcy again shook his head, "No I shall not. I was at your Uncle's yesterday, offering my assistance in locating Wickham. I know of the situation there. There are far to many servants, small children. We shall not expose your sister's situation to all. I shall take you to my home. No one will know of your presence there save a few very loyal servants. I will send a note to your Uncle that you and Lydia have been recovered. You will be reunited with your family on the morrow. For now, we shall see to Miss Lydia's recovery. I shall call for a doctor. I shall take care of you. We can hide her away and await her outcome. If need be I shall find a respectable man to marry her. Trust me Elizabeth. I will see her settled."

Elizabeth's tears started to fall anew. "Thank you. Thank you sir."

He added, "And I will see you settled as well."

She looked up at him, sobbed and turned her head away.

Darcy continued to stare at her. They arrived at Darcy House, entering through the mews. Darcy carefully scooped Lydia into his arms again and carried her from the stables into the house. Darcy spoke to an elegant older lady, "Send for Dr. Simmons immediately, and I think Amy. I will take this girl to the blue room."

The lady whisked away. Darcy commanded Elizabeth, "Follow me."

Darcy walked up the servant's stairs and down a long hall, entering a more elegant area of the home. A footman opened a door for him, entered, lighting candles and seeing to the fire. Darcy set Lydia down on the bed. Elizabeth sat near her, tending to her. He touched Elizabeth's shoulder, "I will be right back. You are perfectly safe here."

He slipped out of the room. He was back momentarily followed by the lady and a girl, Amy. "Elizabeth, this is Mrs. Fellows, my housekeeper and Amy a maid. They shall tend to your sister."

"I can not leave her."

"No, of course not, at least not until the physician arrives. But I must insist that after that, you and I must tend to the business at hand."

She nodded. "I have sent a note to your Uncle's home. They shall receive word of your safety momentarily. All will be well."

Mrs. Fellows nodded to him; "I leave you now."

Mrs. Fellows, Amy and Elizabeth bathed Lydia, changed her into a soft cotton gown. The physician came and examined her, declaring her well save some bruises, brutality, and trauma. "She will recover and with time we shall know the outcome of what has happened."

Elizabeth cried, "She was ruined?"

The physician nodded. He touched her face, "And you my dear, shall I see you as well?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "No sir. Mr. Darcy, he came in just in time."

"Very well. I have given the young lady a draught. She should sleep for some time. It is for the best." He bid them good night.

Mrs. Fellows took Elizabeth's hand. "Amy will stay with her tonight. Mr. Darcy wishes for you to rest. I have instructions from him and as you can imagine, no one disobeys his wishes. Come."

Mrs. Fellows led Elizabeth into the hall, holding her hand on her arm. "I have a bath ready and I have a nightgowns for you."

Elizabeth nodded, "He said that we have business to attend to?"

The lady nodded mysteriously. "Indeed."

Elizabeth found herself in a beautiful room, rich buttery walls, cherry wood wainscoting, furnishings, a huge four-poster bed with forest green cover. There was a light in the room next door. She entered. A bath, steaming water and the scent of lavender. She smiled. Mrs. Fellows had offered to have a maid sent, but Elizabeth declined. "I wish to be alone Madame. And I am quite used to fending for myself."

She stripped off her cloths, horrified by their ruined condition. She eased her body into the water, wincing as the hot water touched the welts on her thighs. She sank beneath the surface and emerged crying anew she felt the weight of what had occurred. She was safe, warm and protected by him, Mr. Darcy. She was safe and could now look into her mind at what had happened to her; the horrible encounter with Wickham.

Wickham. She had been at Gracechurch Street, anxiously awaiting news of her sister. The children were napping and she was pacing. A note arrived for her, Lydia's hand. It told her where she was and more importantly, pleaded, "Help, he is not what I thought he was. He is hurting me. Come, please."

She took a hackney cab across town to a poor part of London. She entered that horrid inn and asked for him. The room smelled of stale ale and urine. The innkeeper laughed at her and had a boy escort her to his room. She knocked on the door and Wickham answered, opening the door wearing only his trousers. He smiled and grabbed her arm, pulling her in. Elizabeth's gaze immediately fell upon her sister, nearly naked and bruised in his bed. Lydia was crying, "Elizabeth, thank God you have come. He says he will not marry me. He says…Wickham flew at her and struck her across the face.

"Shut up you cow."

Elizabeth flew to her sister but Wickham had grabbed her, pushed her back onto the bed and was kissing her, biting at her. "Finally, something worth having."

Lydia scooted off to the corner off the room, sobbing. He was pulling at Elizabeth's dress. Elizabeth fought him, hitting at him and finally kicking him. Though it was not hard enough to do damage, but hard enough to anger him. Wickham grabbed her, pushing her down on the bed face first. His hand was in her hair, holding her face down in the mattress. Elizabeth was suffocating. He pulled up her gown and ran his hands over her bare ass. "Such a lovely thing." He put his knee to her back and swatted her on the ass again and again. His pleasure was not sated, so he pulled off the leather belt, folding it over and started to beat her, raising welts. This was a particular satisfaction for him. Lydia was screaming and he threw the belt at her, "Shut up, you cow."

His desire hard and dripping he flipped her over on her back. "I want you to watch this." He spread her thighs apart, kneeling between them with his trousers around his knees. His hands were spreading her thighs, his fingers, and his fingernails ripping her thighs apart. She was pounding her fists into him, twisting to get away. Then his hand was at her throat, choking her. She felt the pressure, a sense of blackness overwhelming her. He was stabbing at her. He was going to rape her. She was about to loose consciousness when she heard a roar. A voice roaring his name.

"Wickham."

The next thing she knew Darcy was there. Mr. Darcy was there. Mr. Darcy had come for her. Never did she feel such relief, such a sense of safety. And equally so, a sense of shame and horror. Mr. Darcy had come for her. Why? How?

Now she lay in a bath, a warm bath in his home. He was to see her sister settled. How would she ever repay him? She thought back to the last time she had seen him, at the Netherfield ball. She had defended Wickham! He must have seen her as such a fool. Darcy left Meryton the very next day. Collins had proposed. She had disappointed her parents by refusing him. But Bingley had become engaged to her sister Jane that eased her parent's angst against her. Lydia had left for Brighton. Yet Elizabeth remained unsettled. Darcy had used that word, settled. He would see her sister settled, and her too. Settled, what ever did he mean?

Her Aunt and Uncle had asked for her to come to London, to help tend the children. Her father had thought it best, to remove her from her mother's wrath for not agreeing to marry Collins. So to London she went. Only yesterday morning she found her father and Mr. Bingley at her Uncle's doorstep with the horrid news that Lydia had eloped with Wickham.

Darcy, she did not know that Bingley had involved him. Darcy was her rescuer. Darcy had come for her. Darcy, the man that so often had occupied her thoughts. The proud, reticent, quiet, opinionated, taciturn Darcy. The Darcy who would not be tempted by her, the Darcy who teased, the Darcy who stared. The Darcy had rescued her. What were her feelings for him now? She could not feel animosity towards him now that he had done this. So much of her information about him came from Wickham. "And I foolishly believed him!"

Could she admire Mr. Darcy? How could she not? Who could not, he was so handsome, so tall, so very beautiful with his dark hair, his fair skin, his blue eyes. His broad shoulders, his stern brow, his glaring eyes. His eyes…blue eyes.

He was intelligent, she knew that, well read, a great chess player. He was wealthy, a landowner, a member of an esteemed and well positioned family. He was much admired by Miss Bingley, but did she, Elizabeth, know him. No, she did not. She knew he loved and cared for his sister. She had learned that he had lost his parents, was heaped with responsibility and duty. She knew that she found him to be so attractive, lured by his gaze. She knew that she was not handsome enough to tempt him. She knew that she would never ever be found to be worthy of such a man as he and now, after, after what had happened…Elizabeth sobbed again. Sinking again beneath the water to cry. Finally she felt the water cool. She quickly finished washing her hair, her body. She had to get out and see about this business at hand. What on earth did he mean by that?

She got out, finding soft cotton towels. She put on the soft cotton gown and robe. She looked in the mirror at her face, her jaw was just touched with black and blue, her lip slightly cracked. Her face had mostly been preserved. It was the bruises on her body, her arms and hips, the welts on her legs that spoke of the horror that she had been through. She looked away from the horrid site. She carefully brushed out her hair in front of the fire. Drying it as best she could. She noticed a tray, tea and some fruit and cheese. She had no appetite at all. She sipped the tea and continued to brush out her hair in front of the fire. Waiting, wondering, worrying.

Finally there was a tap at the door. She looked up, "Come in."

It was Darcy. Mr. Darcy was there in her room. She pulled the towel to her breast. He shook his head and smiled at her. God he was so handsome. He walked across the room to her side and pulled her to her feet. She could tell that he had bathed, for he smelled of soap, citrus and wood. He took her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. They were bruised, ragged in some spots. His fingers touched her chin, looking at her bruises. "These will heal."

She nodded, "Sir. I can not thank you enough for what you have done."

He smiled at her tenderly, "Do not thank me Elizabeth. I should have acted long ago, then none of this would have happened."

"What do you mean?"

"I should have exposed Wickham, I know his nature."

Elizabeth shivered at the thought of what Wickham's nature was, how she had been so fooled by him. Darcy reached down to a chair for a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You should sit by the fire. I do not want you to chill."

Elizabeth thanked him but refused. "My father and Uncle know of my location?"

"Yes. A note has been sent." He still held her hands in his. He was being so sweet.

She turned his hand over, "You too are injured. Are you well?"

He nodded, pulling her hand close to his chest, "Yes, Elizabeth, I am well. Furious at you but I am well."

She was startled and tried to pull away but he held her hand, her wrist, her forearm against his chest, "Furious?"

"Yes, you put someone I care deeply about at risk. You acted foolishly."

"Who, who did I put at risk save myself?" Realization came to her, "Oh, you mean yourself. I am so sorry, but I believe it was your choice and your choice alone to come for me."

"Elizabeth, you endangered yourself."

She looked up at him, shocked, "I did. But what is that to you? I am nobody to you."

He shook his head frowning and again kissed her knuckles, "Do you have no idea what I feel for you?"

"I know that you must see me as a fool, that I defended Wickham to you." She raised her chin, trying to be as tall as her petite frame could make her, proudly defending herself, "And I know that you do not find me handsome enough to tempt you."

He laughed, "No, no you are not handsome, not in the slightest. You are lovely, beautiful, pretty, delicate. Handsome, no. Lovely, absolutely." He suddenly realized what she meant, "You heard that horrid statement? Forgive me." Again he kissed her knuckles, turning her hand over to kiss her palm.

She gasped. Now she was completely confused. "Mr. Darcy! Sir, perhaps you should tell me of this business that we must attend to and then leave my room."

He smiled again at her and led her to the settee in front of the fire. He indicated that she should sit. She did so. He knelt before her, pushing his body between her knees. He placed his hands on the cushions on either side of her hips. She was trembling in fear. "First and foremost, this is my room. You, Elizabeth, are in my room. That is my bed and in that bed we shall attend the business at hand."

She gasped again. His hands were now on her hips. Hers went to his arms, holding him back. "Wickham, he is very similar in look to me. No one, no one would ever know whose child it is. I would not. You would not. If there is a child in nine months, than it shall be mine. My wife, my child."

She pushed him away, "No. No. We cannot do this. I will not consent to this."

He glared, "You would refuse me?"

She felt his fingers, his hands on her hips. "I would, if I were asked the question."

"Why?"

"Why? I hardly know you! I, you hardly know me. It would be grossly unfair to you to marry a woman such as me. If indeed that is what you are asking."

He laughed. He was laughing at her and she was incensed. "Grossly unfair to me? You have got to be kidding. You, a woman who would walk three miles through muck and mud to be with her sister who had a cold, a trifling cold. You, who would risk everything to rescue a foolish sister. You, who bring joy and delight to everyone who knows you. I know you Elizabeth Bennet and I want you for my wife. I will not allow what that ass did to take away my happiness. And I am the kind of man who will offer you everything I have, my property, my fortune, my heart, just for the right to call you mine. Even though Wickham…I cannot speak of it. Unfair to me? No. Perhaps unfair to you, for I do not deserve a woman such as you, a sweet, innocent, lovely woman such as you." His voice had gotten so quiet, so smooth. His eyes burning as he looked at her. Elizabeth was quite sure she would agree to whatever he asked when he looked at her like that, with those eyes.

He stood up briskly and walked over to the table beneath the window. Elizabeth felt bereft at the loss of his closeness, his warmth. Her heart ached. What was this feeling? He picked up a folio of papers. "I have here a marriage settlement that I meant to bring to your father. You can look at the date of its creation, weeks and weeks ago. Before the ball at Netherfield. I planned on returning for Bingley's wedding and offering for you. I have special license allowing us to marry whenever and where ever we choose. My feelings for you are not of this instant but of deep and long consideration of all that our union would mean."

She started to cry again, "That deep and long consideration could be seen as inconsistency in your feelings sir."

He glared at her, "I will not acknowledge that statement with an answer. I fell in love with you a long time ago. I have pondered it. I have thought about it, this feeling I have in my heart for a long, long time. I will not have you belittle those feelings just because you want to play games."

"I am not playing games, sir. I do not know what you mean."

"You and your verbal sparing."

"Oh. I am not playing games. I did not know that you thought anything for me. I thought, well it seems that I thought wrong. I thought that you did not like me, not at all. I thought that looked at me to find fault."

He smiled at her, realizing his folly, "I did look at you to find fault. I thought it impossible to find perfection. Yet I did, in you. I was constantly amazed and surprised, befuddled and bewitched by you. For I find no fault. Perhaps a little less confident than I originally thought."

He came to her again, with his papers in his hand. He knelt before again. "I find you beautiful, Elizabeth, the most beautiful woman, the most beautiful heart and mind. I love you. I simply love you. I want you as my wife. You in turn can have all the time in the world to fall in love with me. For you shall." He was smiling at her again in an utterly charming way that she had never seen before. Dimples showing, "I will see to it."

She looked away, to the fire. "Then perhaps you can find me a room and we could agree to a courtship. I would never say a thing about this to my father. I would never compromise you, bind you to me."

He shook his head again, "No, Elizabeth. Tonight. I will not risk waiting."

She looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "Why?"

He touched her chin with his hand, "You truly are an innocent. Why? Because of what happened. We will make love tonight. I will spill my seed in you and we will never know if it Wickham's child or mine."

She paled. "I…I do not think that he…he did not have time…you came in before…"

She started to sob again. Darcy lay the papers down and gently ran his hands up her legs, lifting her nightgown. She cried out for him to stop. He shushed her, "You can not bear the reality of what occurred." There on her thin thighs were welts, bruises and scratches. Wickham's fingers had left bruises. Darcy gently traced them with his fingertips, "I will not risk it. We need to do this."

He slipped his hands under her and lifted her to his chest. Elizabeth was sobbing again. He carried her to his bed. "I will be gentle with you, Lizzy. I will love you, adore you and be very, very, gentle with you. I promise."

She sobbed, "We can wait. You will see. I will have my courses and prove to you that he did not…"

"And if you are wrong, we are too late. We will know. As long as there is a chance that the child is mine, I know my heart will be constant. I promise you I will love this child. I promise you, I will be constant."

"But he did not. And you will never know for sure that the child is yours, always doubting in your heart."

He laid her down on his bed and kissed her cheek, her neck, "The child will be mine. I will not loose you. I will not. You mean too much to me. We are going to do this now. Elizabeth, surely you can see that this is for the best?"

She was terrified, but nodded bravely. He kissed her neck, gently kissed her lips, her jaw. He whispered sweet things. His hands ran over her body. She trembled. She was so frightened. She felt him stand at the side of the bed, slipping his shoes off his feet, his trousers off his body. She turned away as he slipped his shirt off over his head and then she gasped as she felt his weight on the bed. His lips were on her shoulders; his hands were under her gown. Her gown was slipping down her arms. His mouth was on her breast. She could feel such warmth, such terror, such desire, such fear, and what was this sensation, pleasure.

She knew she should just lie there and not respond. Was that not what a proper wife was meant to do? She so wanted to touch him in return. She did not even know this man. She did not love him. She did not even know if she liked him before tonight. Yet here he was, declaring his undying devotion and love for her with his words and indeed his actions. Elizabeth soon realized that she was touching him in return, kissing him, tasting the warmth of his flesh, feeling so utterly contented and loved. She felt loved.

But Wickham did not…how could she prove to him that Wickham did not…His hands were everywhere, his lips running down her sternum, her umbilicus, her pubis. His hands were on her hips, holding her still as his tongue dipped into her core, licking her there. Her hands were in his hair, his soft curls. What on earth was he doing to her? She cried out, "Mr. Darcy, you must stop!"

He lifted his head and looked up at her, "Must I?"

"What on earth are you doing?"

"You don't like this?"

"Yes, well no. I have no idea what you are doing."

He laughed, "As if I do! You seem to like it." His head dipped into her core again, licking and sucking, nibbling and touching. Elizabeth did like this, did enjoy this, did want this. Her hips were writhing, lifting up to him. He ran his hands and his mouth up her body, his mouth pleasuring her body, finally capturing hers. He looked down into her eyes, in the gentlest voice he encouraged her, "We need to do this. Elizabeth?"

She nodded. There was no way she could deny him now. She felt pressure. He had his erection in hand and was pressing into her body. His mouth covered hers, his hands now at the sides of her head. He pressed. Suddenly he raised his head. "Wickham did not enter you? He did not do this?"

She shook her head, "No, did you not listen to me when I told you. No, he did not. What are doing to me?" She was crying now.

He moved off her. "I was making you my wife."

He nestled to the side of her. Cuddling her close. "Elizabeth, Wickham did not enter your body with his…"

She shook her head. "You know nothing of what I am doing?"

Again, she shook her head. He lay on his back. "Then I am no better than him."

She rose up on her elbow, pulling the sheet up to her breast. "Do not dare say that. You are a good man. You are trying to do the honorable thing."

He looked over at her, tracing the edges of her face with his fingertips. "You do not love me. You would not have chosen this."

She shook her head, "I did not say that. Why did you stop?"

"I felt pressure. I was told that when one takes his bride, a virgin, that there is a barrier there. I was told that I would feel pressure, something pushing back. I was told that when I, when I take my bride, that I would hurt her when I broke that barrier. I can not bear to hurt you."

Elizabeth blushed, "I have heard that something of that nature would happen."

"You have never spoken of this with your mother, your Aunt perhaps?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "Yes. I was told to just lay still, to say nothing, do nothing. I was told that there would be pain. But of the feelings of pleasure, the sensations, no, Sir, no I was never told that."

Darcy pulled her close, resting her head on his chest. "Now what are we to do? I was so sure, so certain of what would happen. We would make love. Tomorrow your father to sign the settlement, have my Godfather come and marry us. We could stay here, hiding out until your bruises faded and then in nine months, perhaps we would have a child, never knowing if it was Wickham's or mine."

Elizabeth felt the protection of his arms around her. "I told you that Wickham did not…"

Elizabeth lifted her head off his chest and looked at him, her eyes staring down into his. If only she could dive into the depths of his eyes, into his soul she would forever know contentment. She said in the softest of whispers, "Any child that I bear will be yours."

Darcy smiled at her, dimples and all. Elizabeth gasped and reached up to touch his face, dipping her finger tip into his dimple. He nodded, "Yes, any child you have will be mine." He started to cry. Tears were streaming down the sides of his face and he held her close. Elizabeth was now truly terrified, why was he crying?

He then started to laugh, was he mad? Was he insane? "Elizabeth, sweetheart. I am so very glad, so very, very, glad that Wickham…did not…"

She smiled at him, now understanding the source of his tears, "Let us not mention that man again."

He pushed her over onto her back and traced his hand down her body, "No. We shall not. But that does not mean that we shall not attend to the business at hand. If I may, I shall make you my wife. Elizabeth, it may mean that I hurt you. Yet that pain means that you are mine and mine alone. As I am yours. My Elizabeth, God how I love you."

He pressed his mouth to hers, his hands on her body, his lips, his tongue, his legs running up hers. "Elizabeth, let me make love to you." She nodded in agreement. Not that she would be able to say no, to deny her body the pleasure that wafted over her, "this is happening, this is really happening."

"Yes, this, this love is happening." His kisses, his fingers touching her, stroking her, his mouth on her nipples, his hand cupping her breast. He was utterly taking ever nerve, every sensibility and every response to peaks of pleasure. Again he knelt between her knees and stoked her labia with his erection, again his mouth captured hers and he pressed into her. He hesitated as he felt pressure, lifting up and looking at her with compassion and care. He pressed into her, "I am sorry if I am hurting you."

It was like a hot knife was ripping her apart. He moved in and out of her slowly, pressing in, pushing in. His mouth was on her neck, her arms clinging to him. Slowly the burning eased and she felt so full, fulfilled. Her hips started to move with his. He held his weight off of her on his elbows and forearms, his hands holding her head, stroking her hair as he watched her, kissing her gently, smiling down on her. She kissed her back, touching his shoulders, his arms and back. His hips moved his body in and out of her. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging to him with all her might as her mouth sought his. He shuddered, gasped and fell onto her. She could feel warmth throughout her body. She could feel him quiver and tremble, her touch gently running up and down his back.

Slowly he lifted off of her and laid at her side, pulling her into a spoon, her spine against his abdomen. She heard his breath in her hair, "Oh Elizabeth, how I love you. Thank God you are finally mine." She heard his breath even. Was he falling asleep!

His arm held her close, his hand cupped her breast, his legs curled under hers as her bottom nested into his groin. She found herself utterly naked. When had her gown come off? She found herself utterly content in this beautiful man's arms, this man who loved her. She started to cry. Did she love Mr. Darcy in return? She laughed through her tears; "I really have no choice in the matter now. I shall just have to love him."

Chapter One:

Darcy entered the room, slamming open the door. There in the corner huddled in a ball was Lydia Benet, clasping her gown to her breast. And at the bed was Wickham, that bastard. He was pinning a woman down to the bed, one hand around her throat as the other was on her naked hip. The woman's gown was wadded around her waist. Lydia was screaming, terrified. It was the words that she screamed that tore at Darcy's soul, "Lizzy, Lizzy!"

Darcy threw himself across the room wrenching Wickham off his prey, slamming his fist down into the ass's face. Wickham was on the ground and Darcy turned back to see her. Elizabeth, his Elizabeth. She was pulling herself up from the bed; her eyes glazed over, marks on her skin, her lips bruised and swollen, blood trickling down from her sweet mouth.

Wickham made the unfortunate statement, "Darcy, they are just country girls, no need for such violence. We can share."

Darcy picked him up with one hand, his fury enraging him and proceeded to pound his fist in Wickham. Wickham was clinging to the large hand that was clasping his throat, kicking his feet. Darcy pounded his fist into the ass's head over and over again until he felt her hands, tiny hands on his arm, pulling him off. "Please, Sir. You will kill him!"

Darcy turned on her, hissing, "And would that matter to you, Madame?"

Elizabeth was staring at him with those eyes, those damn eyes that he could not resist. "Yes, yes it would matter."

Darcy spat at her, "So nothing changed for you. Despite this, he still holds your affection?"

Elizabeth shook her head, tears were streaming down her face, "Sir, please. You cannot kill him. It would be murder and I will not see you hang for the likes of him!"

Darcy relaxed immediately. His hand left Wickham's throat and the ass fell to the floor gasping. Darcy reached out for Elizabeth's hand and pulled her to him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Elizabeth was trembling, "He had my sister. I could ask the same of you, Sir."

Darcy glared at her, "I heard from Bingley that Wickham had eloped with Miss Lydia. I was honor bound to find him and rescue her from him."

Elizabeth shook her head, "I do not understand why you would feel so."

"If I had made his nature known, if I had dealt with him as I should have. If I had not sought to protect my families name, none of this would have happened."

Elizabeth's sister was crying for her, "Please release me and let me go to her."

Darcy did so and Elizabeth flew to her sister's side. Wickham was beginning to regain his senses on the floor. "Miss Elizabeth holds your affection? So glad that I had the opportunity to taste her first, always a pleasure to test the waters for you, old chap."

Darcy kicked Wickham in the ribs with all his might and then a second time in the groin. Elizabeth cried for him, "Mr. Darcy, please."

He went to her, finding her wrapping her sister in a blanket. "Please help me get her out of here."

Darcy looked at Elizabeth, "Can you walk?"

"Of course I can." Darcy scooped Lydia up in his arms and made his way out of the room commanding, "Stay right behind me."

"I would not do otherwise, Sir."

Elizabeth followed Darcy down the stairs into the main room; her hand touched the center of his back. Her hand made a fist over his coat, hanging on for dear life. At the bottom as he paused looking about the room. There were a few unsavory men standing at the bar. One of them started towards them. Darcy looked at him, "Come near me or mine and I will kill you."

The man backed away. Elizabeth followed closely behind him. He knew it for her hand was touching his back, gripping his coat. Once outside Darcy whistled for his man. A carriage approached with Dan, Darcy's coachman atop. Darcy hissed at Elizabeth, "Get in quickly."

Elizabeth did as she was bid. Darcy followed easing Lydia onto the seat beside her. Elizabeth immediately took her sister's head into her lap and soothed her, trying to ease her sister's tears. Darcy climbed in, sat opposite her, staring, glaring and fuming at her. Elizabeth's tears started to fall in great rushes. Darcy hissed, "What, prey tell, brought you to that fowl place?"

Tears were falling heavily, yet she made no sobs. "I received a note at my Aunt and Uncles home. Lydia must have slipped it to someone, asking for help. My father and my Uncle were out searching. I could not wait."

"Unescorted, unattended, without protection?"

"She is my sister! Would you not do anything, give anything, endure anything to protect Miss Darcy?"

"You know that I would, yet I am a man."

"Are my feelings of love and devotion for my sister any less than yours because of my sex?"

Darcy looked at her, quiet and silent for a moment. His voice eased, became gentle and caring. "Of course not Miss Elizabeth. I must ask; are you harmed?"

Elizabeth looked down at her sister's face, sobbing. She could not say in front of her sister. She could not bring herself to speak of it. She nodded her head in affirmation of his worst fears. "Do not speak of it? I shall take care of everything."

Elizabeth looked up at him, "I can not allow that Sir. You are released from any sense of duty, honor. Just getting us out of there, I can never repay you."

Darcy shook his head, "This does not end here Elizabeth."

She was silent and focused on her sister. After a while she looked out at the night. Suddenly she startled, "We are not heading to Gracechurch Street? I do not recognize this place."

"I am taking you to my home."

Elizabeth looked up at him, "What ever for? You must return us to my Uncle's immediately. My family will be so worried!"

Darcy again shook his head, "No I shall not. I was at your Uncle's yesterday, offering my assistance in locating Wickham. I know of the situation there. There are far to many servants, small children. We shall not expose your sister's situation to all. I shall take you to my home. No one will know of your presence there save a few very loyal servants. I will send a note to your Uncle that you and Lydia have been recovered. You will be reunited with your family on the morrow. For now, we shall see to Miss Lydia's recovery. I shall call for a doctor. I shall take care of you. We can hide her away and await her outcome. If need be I shall find a respectable man to marry her. Trust me Elizabeth. I will see her settled."

Elizabeth's tears started to fall anew. "Thank you. Thank you sir."

He added, "And I will see you settled as well."

She looked up at him, sobbed and turned her head away.

Darcy continued to stare at her. They arrived at Darcy House, entering through the mews. Darcy carefully scooped Lydia into his arms again and carried her from the stables into the house. Darcy spoke to an elegant older lady, "Send for Dr. Simmons immediately, and I think Amy. I will take this girl to the blue room."

The lady whisked away. Darcy commanded Elizabeth, "Follow me."

Darcy walked up the servant's stairs and down a long hall, entering a more elegant area of the home. A footman opened a door for him, entered, lighting candles and seeing to the fire. Darcy set Lydia down on the bed. Elizabeth sat near her, tending to her. He touched Elizabeth's shoulder, "I will be right back. You are perfectly safe here."

He slipped out of the room. He was back momentarily followed by the lady and a girl, Amy. "Elizabeth, this is Mrs. Fellows, my housekeeper and Amy a maid. They shall tend to your sister."

"I can not leave her."

"No, of course not, at least not until the physician arrives. But I must insist that after that, you and I must tend to the business at hand."

She nodded. "I have sent a note to your Uncle's home. They shall receive word of your safety momentarily. All will be well."

Mrs. Fellows nodded to him; "I leave you now."

Mrs. Fellows, Amy and Elizabeth bathed Lydia, changed her into a soft cotton gown. The physician came and examined her, declaring her well save some bruises, brutality, and trauma. "She will recover and with time we shall know the outcome of what has happened."

Elizabeth cried, "She was ruined?"

The physician nodded. He touched her face, "And you my dear, shall I see you as well?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "No sir. Mr. Darcy, he came in just in time."

"Very well. I have given the young lady a draught. She should sleep for some time. It is for the best." He bid them good night.

Mrs. Fellows took Elizabeth's hand. "Amy will stay with her tonight. Mr. Darcy wishes for you to rest. I have instructions from him and as you can imagine, no one disobeys his wishes. Come."

Mrs. Fellows led Elizabeth into the hall, holding her hand on her arm. "I have a bath ready and I have a nightgowns for you."

Elizabeth nodded, "He said that we have business to attend to?"

The lady nodded mysteriously. "Indeed."

Elizabeth found herself in a beautiful room, rich buttery walls, cherry wood wainscoting, furnishings, a huge four-poster bed with forest green cover. There was a light in the room next door. She entered. A bath, steaming water and the scent of lavender. She smiled. Mrs. Fellows had offered to have a maid sent, but Elizabeth declined. "I wish to be alone Madame. And I am quite used to fending for myself."

She stripped off her cloths, horrified by their ruined condition. She eased her body into the water, wincing as the hot water touched the welts on her thighs. She sank beneath the surface and emerged crying anew she felt the weight of what had occurred. She was safe, warm and protected by him, Mr. Darcy. She was safe and could now look into her mind at what had happened to her; the horrible encounter with Wickham.

Wickham. She had been at Gracechurch Street, anxiously awaiting news of her sister. The children were napping and she was pacing. A note arrived for her, Lydia's hand. It told her where she was and more importantly, pleaded, "Help, he is not what I thought he was. He is hurting me. Come, please."

She took a hackney cab across town to a poor part of London. She entered that horrid inn and asked for him. The room smelled of stale ale and urine. The innkeeper laughed at her and had a boy escort her to his room. She knocked on the door and Wickham answered, opening the door wearing only his trousers. He smiled and grabbed her arm, pulling her in. Elizabeth's gaze immediately fell upon her sister, nearly naked and bruised in his bed. Lydia was crying, "Elizabeth, thank God you have come. He says he will not marry me. He says…Wickham flew at her and struck her across the face.

"Shut up you cow."

Elizabeth flew to her sister but Wickham had grabbed her, pushed her back onto the bed and was kissing her, biting at her. "Finally, something worth having."

Lydia scooted off to the corner off the room, sobbing. He was pulling at Elizabeth's dress. Elizabeth fought him, hitting at him and finally kicking him. Though it was not hard enough to do damage, but hard enough to anger him. Wickham grabbed her, pushing her down on the bed face first. His hand was in her hair, holding her face down in the mattress. Elizabeth was suffocating. He pulled up her gown and ran his hands over her bare ass. "Such a lovely thing." He put his knee to her back and swatted her on the ass again and again. His pleasure was not sated, so he pulled off the leather belt, folding it over and started to beat her, raising welts. This was a particular satisfaction for him. Lydia was screaming and he threw the belt at her, "Shut up, you cow."

His desire hard and dripping he flipped her over on her back. "I want you to watch this." He spread her thighs apart, kneeling between them with his trousers around his knees. His hands were spreading her thighs, his fingers, and his fingernails ripping her thighs apart. She was pounding her fists into him, twisting to get away. Then his hand was at her throat, choking her. She felt the pressure, a sense of blackness overwhelming her. He was stabbing at her. He was going to rape her. She was about to loose consciousness when she heard a roar. A voice roaring his name.

"Wickham."

The next thing she knew Darcy was there. Mr. Darcy was there. Mr. Darcy had come for her. Never did she feel such relief, such a sense of safety. And equally so, a sense of shame and horror. Mr. Darcy had come for her. Why? How?

Now she lay in a bath, a warm bath in his home. He was to see her sister settled. How would she ever repay him? She thought back to the last time she had seen him, at the Netherfield ball. She had defended Wickham! He must have seen her as such a fool. Darcy left Meryton the very next day. Collins had proposed. She had disappointed her parents by refusing him. But Bingley had become engaged to her sister Jane that eased her parent's angst against her. Lydia had left for Brighton. Yet Elizabeth remained unsettled. Darcy had used that word, settled. He would see her sister settled, and her too. Settled, what ever did he mean?

Her Aunt and Uncle had asked for her to come to London, to help tend the children. Her father had thought it best, to remove her from her mother's wrath for not agreeing to marry Collins. So to London she went. Only yesterday morning she found her father and Mr. Bingley at her Uncle's doorstep with the horrid news that Lydia had eloped with Wickham.

Darcy, she did not know that Bingley had involved him. Darcy was her rescuer. Darcy had come for her. Darcy, the man that so often had occupied her thoughts. The proud, reticent, quiet, opinionated, taciturn Darcy. The Darcy who would not be tempted by her, the Darcy who teased, the Darcy who stared. The Darcy had rescued her. What were her feelings for him now? She could not feel animosity towards him now that he had done this. So much of her information about him came from Wickham. "And I foolishly believed him!"

Could she admire Mr. Darcy? How could she not? Who could not, he was so handsome, so tall, so very beautiful with his dark hair, his fair skin, his blue eyes. His broad shoulders, his stern brow, his glaring eyes. His eyes…blue eyes.

He was intelligent, she knew that, well read, a great chess player. He was wealthy, a landowner, a member of an esteemed and well positioned family. He was much admired by Miss Bingley, but did she, Elizabeth, know him. No, she did not. She knew he loved and cared for his sister. She had learned that he had lost his parents, was heaped with responsibility and duty. She knew that she found him to be so attractive, lured by his gaze. She knew that she was not handsome enough to tempt him. She knew that she would never ever be found to be worthy of such a man as he and now, after, after what had happened…Elizabeth sobbed again. Sinking again beneath the water to cry. Finally she felt the water cool. She quickly finished washing her hair, her body. She had to get out and see about this business at hand. What on earth did he mean by that?

She got out, finding soft cotton towels. She put on the soft cotton gown and robe. She looked in the mirror at her face, her jaw was just touched with black and blue, her lip slightly cracked. Her face had mostly been preserved. It was the bruises on her body, her arms and hips, the welts on her legs that spoke of the horror that she had been through. She looked away from the horrid site. She carefully brushed out her hair in front of the fire. Drying it as best she could. She noticed a tray, tea and some fruit and cheese. She had no appetite at all. She sipped the tea and continued to brush out her hair in front of the fire. Waiting, wondering, worrying.

Finally there was a tap at the door. She looked up, "Come in."

It was Darcy. Mr. Darcy was there in her room. She pulled the towel to her breast. He shook his head and smiled at her. God he was so handsome. He walked across the room to her side and pulled her to her feet. She could tell that he had bathed, for he smelled of soap, citrus and wood. He took her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. They were bruised, ragged in some spots. His fingers touched her chin, looking at her bruises. "These will heal."

She nodded, "Sir. I can not thank you enough for what you have done."

He smiled at her tenderly, "Do not thank me Elizabeth. I should have acted long ago, then none of this would have happened."

"What do you mean?"

"I should have exposed Wickham, I know his nature."

Elizabeth shivered at the thought of what Wickham's nature was, how she had been so fooled by him. Darcy reached down to a chair for a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "You should sit by the fire. I do not want you to chill."

Elizabeth thanked him but refused. "My father and Uncle know of my location?"

"Yes. A note has been sent." He still held her hands in his. He was being so sweet.

She turned his hand over, "You too are injured. Are you well?"

He nodded, pulling her hand close to his chest, "Yes, Elizabeth, I am well. Furious at you but I am well."

She was startled and tried to pull away but he held her hand, her wrist, her forearm against his chest, "Furious?"

"Yes, you put someone I care deeply about at risk. You acted foolishly."

"Who, who did I put at risk save myself?" Realization came to her, "Oh, you mean yourself. I am so sorry, but I believe it was your choice and your choice alone to come for me."

"Elizabeth, you endangered yourself."

She looked up at him, shocked, "I did. But what is that to you? I am nobody to you."

He shook his head frowning and again kissed her knuckles, "Do you have no idea what I feel for you?"

"I know that you must see me as a fool, that I defended Wickham to you." She raised her chin, trying to be as tall as her petite frame could make her, proudly defending herself, "And I know that you do not find me handsome enough to tempt you."

He laughed, "No, no you are not handsome, not in the slightest. You are lovely, beautiful, pretty, delicate. Handsome, no. Lovely, absolutely." He suddenly realized what she meant, "You heard that horrid statement? Forgive me." Again he kissed her knuckles, turning her hand over to kiss her palm.

She gasped. Now she was completely confused. "Mr. Darcy! Sir, perhaps you should tell me of this business that we must attend to and then leave my room."

He smiled again at her and led her to the settee in front of the fire. He indicated that she should sit. She did so. He knelt before her, pushing his body between her knees. He placed his hands on the cushions on either side of her hips. She was trembling in fear. "First and foremost, this is my room. You, Elizabeth, are in my room. That is my bed and in that bed we shall attend the business at hand."

She gasped again. His hands were now on her hips. Hers went to his arms, holding him back. "Wickham, he is very similar in look to me. No one, no one would ever know whose child it is. I would not. You would not. If there is a child in nine months, than it shall be mine. My wife, my child."

She pushed him away, "No. No. We cannot do this. I will not consent to this."

He glared, "You would refuse me?"

She felt his fingers, his hands on her hips. "I would, if I were asked the question."

"Why?"

"Why? I hardly know you! I, you hardly know me. It would be grossly unfair to you to marry a woman such as me. If indeed that is what you are asking."

He laughed. He was laughing at her and she was incensed. "Grossly unfair to me? You have got to be kidding. You, a woman who would walk three miles through muck and mud to be with her sister who had a cold, a trifling cold. You, who would risk everything to rescue a foolish sister. You, who bring joy and delight to everyone who knows you. I know you Elizabeth Bennet and I want you for my wife. I will not allow what that ass did to take away my happiness. And I am the kind of man who will offer you everything I have, my property, my fortune, my heart, just for the right to call you mine. Even though Wickham…I cannot speak of it. Unfair to me? No. Perhaps unfair to you, for I do not deserve a woman such as you, a sweet, innocent, lovely woman such as you." His voice had gotten so quiet, so smooth. His eyes burning as he looked at her. Elizabeth was quite sure she would agree to whatever he asked when he looked at her like that, with those eyes.

He stood up briskly and walked over to the table beneath the window. Elizabeth felt bereft at the loss of his closeness, his warmth. Her heart ached. What was this feeling? He picked up a folio of papers. "I have here a marriage settlement that I meant to bring to your father. You can look at the date of its creation, weeks and weeks ago. Before the ball at Netherfield. I planned on returning for Bingley's wedding and offering for you. I have special license allowing us to marry whenever and where ever we choose. My feelings for you are not of this instant but of deep and long consideration of all that our union would mean."

She started to cry again, "That deep and long consideration could be seen as inconsistency in your feelings sir."

He glared at her, "I will not acknowledge that statement with an answer. I fell in love with you a long time ago. I have pondered it. I have thought about it, this feeling I have in my heart for a long, long time. I will not have you belittle those feelings just because you want to play games."

"I am not playing games, sir. I do not know what you mean."

"You and your verbal sparing."

"Oh. I am not playing games. I did not know that you thought anything for me. I thought, well it seems that I thought wrong. I thought that you did not like me, not at all. I thought that looked at me to find fault."

He smiled at her, realizing his folly, "I did look at you to find fault. I thought it impossible to find perfection. Yet I did, in you. I was constantly amazed and surprised, befuddled and bewitched by you. For I find no fault. Perhaps a little less confident than I originally thought."

He came to her again, with his papers in his hand. He knelt before again. "I find you beautiful, Elizabeth, the most beautiful woman, the most beautiful heart and mind. I love you. I simply love you. I want you as my wife. You in turn can have all the time in the world to fall in love with me. For you shall." He was smiling at her again in an utterly charming way that she had never seen before. Dimples showing, "I will see to it."

She looked away, to the fire. "Then perhaps you can find me a room and we could agree to a courtship. I would never say a thing about this to my father. I would never compromise you, bind you to me."

He shook his head again, "No, Elizabeth. Tonight. I will not risk waiting."

She looked at him, tears brimming in her eyes. "Why?"

He touched her chin with his hand, "You truly are an innocent. Why? Because of what happened. We will make love tonight. I will spill my seed in you and we will never know if it Wickham's child or mine."

She paled. "I…I do not think that he…he did not have time…you came in before…"

She started to sob again. Darcy lay the papers down and gently ran his hands up her legs, lifting her nightgown. She cried out for him to stop. He shushed her, "You can not bear the reality of what occurred." There on her thin thighs were welts, bruises and scratches. Wickham's fingers had left bruises. Darcy gently traced them with his fingertips, "I will not risk it. We need to do this."

He slipped his hands under her and lifted her to his chest. Elizabeth was sobbing again. He carried her to his bed. "I will be gentle with you, Lizzy. I will love you, adore you and be very, very, gentle with you. I promise."

She sobbed, "We can wait. You will see. I will have my courses and prove to you that he did not…"

"And if you are wrong, we are too late. We will know. As long as there is a chance that the child is mine, I know my heart will be constant. I promise you I will love this child. I promise you, I will be constant."

"But he did not. And you will never know for sure that the child is yours, always doubting in your heart."

He laid her down on his bed and kissed her cheek, her neck, "The child will be mine. I will not loose you. I will not. You mean too much to me. We are going to do this now. Elizabeth, surely you can see that this is for the best?"

She was terrified, but nodded bravely. He kissed her neck, gently kissed her lips, her jaw. He whispered sweet things. His hands ran over her body. She trembled. She was so frightened. She felt him stand at the side of the bed, slipping his shoes off his feet, his trousers off his body. She turned away as he slipped his shirt off over his head and then she gasped as she felt his weight on the bed. His lips were on her shoulders; his hands were under her gown. Her gown was slipping down her arms. His mouth was on her breast. She could feel such warmth, such terror, such desire, such fear, and what was this sensation, pleasure.

She knew she should just lie there and not respond. Was that not what a proper wife was meant to do? She so wanted to touch him in return. She did not even know this man. She did not love him. She did not even know if she liked him before tonight. Yet here he was, declaring his undying devotion and love for her with his words and indeed his actions. Elizabeth soon realized that she was touching him in return, kissing him, tasting the warmth of his flesh, feeling so utterly contented and loved. She felt loved.

But Wickham did not…how could she prove to him that Wickham did not…His hands were everywhere, his lips running down her sternum, her umbilicus, her pubis. His hands were on her hips, holding her still as his tongue dipped into her core, licking her there. Her hands were in his hair, his soft curls. What on earth was he doing to her? She cried out, "Mr. Darcy, you must stop!"

He lifted his head and looked up at her, "Must I?"

"What on earth are you doing?"

"You don't like this?"

"Yes, well no. I have no idea what you are doing."

He laughed, "As if I do! You seem to like it." His head dipped into her core again, licking and sucking, nibbling and touching. Elizabeth did like this, did enjoy this, did want this. Her hips were writhing, lifting up to him. He ran his hands and his mouth up her body, his mouth pleasuring her body, finally capturing hers. He looked down into her eyes, in the gentlest voice he encouraged her, "We need to do this. Elizabeth?"

She nodded. There was no way she could deny him now. She felt pressure. He had his erection in hand and was pressing into her body. His mouth covered hers, his hands now at the sides of her head. He pressed. Suddenly he raised his head. "Wickham did not enter you? He did not do this?"

She shook her head, "No, did you not listen to me when I told you. No, he did not. What are doing to me?" She was crying now.

He moved off her. "I was making you my wife."

He nestled to the side of her. Cuddling her close. "Elizabeth, Wickham did not enter your body with his…"

She shook her head. "You know nothing of what I am doing?"

Again, she shook her head. He lay on his back. "Then I am no better than him."

She rose up on her elbow, pulling the sheet up to her breast. "Do not dare say that. You are a good man. You are trying to do the honorable thing."

He looked over at her, tracing the edges of her face with his fingertips. "You do not love me. You would not have chosen this."

She shook her head, "I did not say that. Why did you stop?"

"I felt pressure. I was told that when one takes his bride, a virgin, that there is a barrier there. I was told that I would feel pressure, something pushing back. I was told that when I, when I take my bride, that I would hurt her when I broke that barrier. I can not bear to hurt you."

Elizabeth blushed, "I have heard that something of that nature would happen."

"You have never spoken of this with your mother, your Aunt perhaps?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "Yes. I was told to just lay still, to say nothing, do nothing. I was told that there would be pain. But of the feelings of pleasure, the sensations, no, Sir, no I was never told that."

Darcy pulled her close, resting her head on his chest. "Now what are we to do? I was so sure, so certain of what would happen. We would make love. Tomorrow your father to sign the settlement, have my Godfather come and marry us. We could stay here, hiding out until your bruises faded and then in nine months, perhaps we would have a child, never knowing if it was Wickham's or mine."

Elizabeth felt the protection of his arms around her. "I told you that Wickham did not…"

Elizabeth lifted her head off his chest and looked at him, her eyes staring down into his. If only she could dive into the depths of his eyes, into his soul she would forever know contentment. She said in the softest of whispers, "Any child that I bear will be yours."

Darcy smiled at her, dimples and all. Elizabeth gasped and reached up to touch his face, dipping her finger tip into his dimple. He nodded, "Yes, any child you have will be mine." He started to cry. Tears were streaming down the sides of his face and he held her close. Elizabeth was now truly terrified, why was he crying?

He then started to laugh, was he mad? Was he insane? "Elizabeth, sweetheart. I am so very glad, so very, very, glad that Wickham…did not…"

She smiled at him, now understanding the source of his tears, "Let us not mention that man again."

He pushed her over onto her back and traced his hand down her body, "No. We shall not. But that does not mean that we shall not attend to the business at hand. If I may, I shall make you my wife. Elizabeth, it may mean that I hurt you. Yet that pain means that you are mine and mine alone. As I am yours. My Elizabeth, God how I love you."

He pressed his mouth to hers, his hands on her body, his lips, his tongue, his legs running up hers. "Elizabeth, let me make love to you." She nodded in agreement. Not that she would be able to say no, to deny her body the pleasure that wafted over her, "this is happening, this is really happening."

"Yes, this, this love is happening." His kisses, his fingers touching her, stroking her, his mouth on her nipples, his hand cupping her breast. He was utterly taking ever nerve, every sensibility and every response to peaks of pleasure. Again he knelt between her knees and stoked her labia with his erection, again his mouth captured hers and he pressed into her. He hesitated as he felt pressure, lifting up and looking at her with compassion and care. He pressed into her, "I am sorry if I am hurting you."

It was like a hot knife was ripping her apart. He moved in and out of her slowly, pressing in, pushing in. His mouth was on her neck, her arms clinging to him. Slowly the burning eased and she felt so full, fulfilled. Her hips started to move with his. He held his weight off of her on his elbows and forearms, his hands holding her head, stroking her hair as he watched her, kissing her gently, smiling down on her. She kissed her back, touching his shoulders, his arms and back. His hips moved his body in and out of her. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, clinging to him with all her might as her mouth sought his. He shuddered, gasped and fell onto her. She could feel warmth throughout her body. She could feel him quiver and tremble, her touch gently running up and down his back.

Slowly he lifted off of her and laid at her side, pulling her into a spoon, her spine against his abdomen. She heard his breath in her hair, "Oh Elizabeth, how I love you. Thank God you are finally mine." She heard his breath even. Was he falling asleep!

His arm held her close, his hand cupped her breast, his legs curled under hers as her bottom nested into his groin. She found herself utterly naked. When had her gown come off? She found herself utterly content in this beautiful man's arms, this man who loved her. She started to cry. Did she love Mr. Darcy in return? She laughed through her tears; "I really have no choice in the matter now. I shall just have to love him."

She calmed and listened, there was odd noise. Finally she identified it, the slow steady beat of Mr. Darcy's heart. It was a most lovely sound, constant, consistent and true. She slept.

She calmed and listened, there was odd noise. Finally she identified it, the slow steady beat of Mr. Darcy's heart. It was a most lovely sound, constant, consistent and true. She slept.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

There was a light, a bright light shining down on her. She opened her eyes, sunlight filtered through white sheer curtains around a large four-poster bed. Where on earth was she? She felt heaviness on her. She turned, Mr. Darcy. She was in Mr. Darcy's bed. The memories of the previous night returned. She closed her eyes and pondered the situation opening them to see Mr. Darcy's blue eyes smiling down at her. "Did you sleep well Elizabeth?"

She nodded. He was touching her face, her neck, her shoulders. Would they begin again? "I can not tell you how happy I am. To finally after all these years, to know love, to feel like I belong to someone, that someone cherishes me. Elizabeth, you have no idea how happy I am. I know that this may seem selfish of me considering all that you and your family have been through but I promise you that I will see Lydia settled and you, you my love, will be the happiest, most adored wife in all of England."

She paled, for indeed, she had no choice but to marry Mr. Darcy now. "I am afraid that I shall have a grave impediment to happiness. For Sir, I do not know your name, other than Mr. Darcy."

He laughed, "Oh dear. That is not good at all. I guess I did notice that you only call me Sir, or Mr. Darcy. I do have a name, Fitzwilliam. Quite the mouthful."

Elizabeth nodded, "My cousin Richard calls me Darcy, as does Bingley. My sister calls me Fitzwilliam, as does my Aunt, my other cousins. My father, before he died sometimes called me William."

Elizabeth smiled, "William."

Darcy smiled, rolling her over onto her back and kissing her, "Say that again."

Elizabeth breathed and said William again and again as he showered her body with kisses. Again the tempo changed, the gentle touching became firmer, and the kisses longer and deeper, the very scent of the room became pungent with lovemaking. Again Darcy entered Elizabeth's body, though this time there was very little pain. Again she wrapped her arms and legs around him, meeting his body with hers thrust for thrust. Again he shuddered and came into her, spilling his seed within her body, filling her with a sense of fullness that she had never imagined possible.

He lay near her, smiling at her. They started to laugh. "You really had no idea that I was falling in love you?"

She shook her head.

"Do you think that I have the chance that you will love me in return?"

She pulled away from him, afraid at first of what her answer would be. Seeing the depth of his longing in his eyes, she could not disappoint him. "Mr. Darcy, Sir. William, I find my heart very open to the possibility that I shall love just as much if not more than you profess to love me. You do need to give me some time to chat up, Sir. For until just twelve hours or so ago, I had no idea that you even thought of me!"

He rests his chin on her sternum as his finger traced circles around her cheek, her eyes. "Did you, while we were in Meryton ever think of me in a romantic sense?"

She pressed her lips together, "I can not lie to you. I did not. I thought that you did not like me and I find that I closed my heart to any idea of you, in the romantic sense. My vanity and pride would not allow it after hearing your initial opinion of me. Then I listened to that horrid man. I, oh, no I shall not think of that. I did think you terribly handsome, intelligent, somewhat proud."

He kissed her chest. Suddenly Elizabeth started to pull away. He clasped her waist, "What is it, darling?"

"You are engaged to Miss Anne de Bough!"

"Who told you that?"

"Mr. Collins, your Aunt's Vicar!"

Darcy shook his head, "No, Elizabeth, I am not. Yes, my Aunt wishes for me to marry her daughter but I can assure you that there is you and only you. We shall marry today."

He cuddled her close. She still doubted, "You told me that the settlement is dated before the ball. Why did you leave if you loved me as you say you did?"

Very shyly he rest his head against her shoulder, "I doubted. I worried what bringing you into my world would do to you. I needed to give myself some space, some time away from you to truly understand what you meant to me. And then there is the little issue of being a coward. I was afraid to ask, for fear of being rejected. You see, I thought that you loved another. I thought that you…I thought that I had lost another person whom I love to him, to Wickham."

Elizabeth paled but interrupted him, stopping him from the darkness of his thoughts, "I never ever had feelings for him. I felt sorry for him, if that but never did I love. Mr. Darcy, who did you loose to Wickham?"

Darcy looked into her eyes and she gasped, his pupils so large, so deep. "My father, my own father preferred his company. My dear sister, he went after her and I very nearly lost her to him. I just barely recovered her in time. She has been lost to me since then. Blaming me for taking him away from her."

Elizabeth could see the pain in his eyes and she leaned forward to kiss him, to kiss his eyelids, his nose. "You did not loose me to him."

"And for that I am eternally thankful." He pulled her to sitting, "Come, let us bath and get ready for our day. Your father will arrive soon and my Godfather, he will marry us. Once that is done, will you feel more secure in my love?"

She nodded. Then she held her hand to her lips, "My dress was ruined. I have nothing to wear."

He smiled at her, "Well naked is my preference but do not fear. I have been thinking of you for some time and being a spoilt man who always gets what he wants, I have made a few purchases anticipating our marriage. In other words, I have purchased a dress or two that should fit your tiny body."

She looked down at her body, clutching the sheets to cover herself and shuddered.

Darcy smiled at her, and pulled the sheet away. "Oh, you do not like that phrase, tiny?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I have heard your mother's comments about Jane's beauty, her continuous comparisons. I know and you know that you are a tiny petite creature. I looked at you that first night dancing, enchanted by your light and pleasing figure. I have never been attracted to a woman as I have been to you." He reached for her breast cupping it in his hand. "You are perfect, lovely, perfectly beautiful. God, how beautiful you are."

Elizabeth blushed and turned her head away. Darcy pulled her into an embrace. He was sitting on the bed, naked, his hands pulling her hips between his strong, thick, muscular thighs. His fingers ran the length of her spine. Her face was equal in height to his in this position. She looked at his broad shoulders, the sculpted muscles of his chest and abdomen, the largeness of his hands compared to hers. He picked up her hand and pressed it against his, "So tiny, so strong, so skilled, so petite." He kissed her fingers. "When I pulled you to me last night, after we made love. I knew it would be like that with you. Your body is a perfect fit for me. Just as your heart and mind are a perfect fit. You are the other half of my heart, my missing piece, my soul's mate. The way your body curled against mine, I shall never sleep alone again, Lizzy. My sweet, lovely Lizzy."

His adoration of her astounded her. She shook her head, "I did not know you felt this way."

He laughed, "Well now you do. I love you." He held out his hand to help her up, "Come, we have a wedding to attend and I suppose your father needs to be informed."

She stood up again clinging to the sheet. Suddenly Darcy's face went white. "Sir, what is it?"

Darcy looked at her, "Sweetheart, there is blood all over the bed."

She looked back and indeed, the sheets were quite soiled. "I believe that is expected when you take a virgin wife."

He cuddled her to his body, "You are well? Please tell me that I did not hurt you too much. Forgive me?"

She soothed him. It felt so good to stand in his arms. His chin rest against the top of her head, she was encased in his arms, warm and protected. "There is absolutely nothing to forgive. You were very gentle with me."

He swooped her up and took her to the bath. She modestly lowered the sheet and stepped into the bath, feeling the soothing water against her skin. She was a bit surprised when Darcy got in behind her. The closeness, the intimacy of laying in a bath with another was something she had never imagined. He was braiding her hair and piling it on top her head, washing her back and kissing her. He was so tender with her, caring for her but he braided her hair? Had he done this with another?

With fear and doubt in her mind and heart she asked, "How is it that you know how to braid hair, Sir?"

He looked at her with curiosity, "I do have a younger sister and horses. Sometimes I braid a mane or tail. What is it that you are asking?"

She was very shy, not knowing how to ask the question that was on her lips. "Ask, ask it Elizabeth."

"What is it you think I should ask?"

"I do not know, but it is there between us and I do not like it there, this question is a question of doubt."

"Oh. I see. I, well, I had no idea what to do. I was innocent. But you sir were not."

"There is not question, only a statement. One that is false. Ask a question, Elizabeth."

"What statement was false?"

"That I was not innocent."

She looked at him, "What do mean by that?"

"I was as innocent as you regarding the pleasures of the flesh."

"You did not appear innocent. You certainly knew what you were doing. You are a man, of what, 28 years. How could you be innocent?"

He smiled and kissed her shoulder, wrapping his legs and arms around her. "I waited for you, that is how. And I am very well read. There are books on the subject you know."

She was shy in his arms, "I did not know."

He kissed her hair, stroking her arms, nuzzling his face into her neck. "When you meet my sister you will meet an incredibly shy individual. Currently a bitter and angry girl but shy, so sweet at the core. I was very much like her. Well, shy that is, not sweet. I found that my nature would not allow me to dabble in casual relations as so many men my age do. My sense of honor and propriety would not allow it. Then I met you and I knew love. I knew that some day this intimacy, this connection would be ours. When I thought that I had lost you to Wickham, knowing what I know of him? Oh God. I never knew such sorrow."

"You did not loose me to Wickham."

"I did not. Not last November and not yesterday."

"Nor any day between."

He laughed and kissed her cheek, "You have no idea how glad I am to have THAT out of the way."

"That?"

"My innocence, my virginity, my inexperience. I have been anticipating this moment. Thinking about it for a long time, what it would finally mean. I would hate to think I was a fumbling fool and hurt you."

She snuggled against him, "You were wonderful." She felt blessed. She felt honored, cherished. She felt loved and suddenly she knew it. She knew it and she said it. "I find that I am falling quite in love with you William."

He hugged her close and kissed her. "I knew you would, eventually."

She looked up at him with her eyebrow raised skeptically. "You are a bit arrogant."

He laughed, "Arrogant, proud, and right. I knew it had to be so. I simply had to believe that some day you would be mine."

There was a tap on the door. "Mr. Darcy, a carriage has arrived. There are some gentlemen demanding to see the Miss Bennets."

He answered. "See that Mrs. Fellows attends to their needs, coffee etc. Breakfast in the morning room. We shall be down momentarily."

"We sir?"

"Yes. Miss Elizabeth and I."

Darcy laughed. "Well, my darling. Are you ready to face your father?"

Elizabeth pressed her lips together. "One question sir. If you are such an honorable man with such a sense of propriety that you kept yourself chaste for all these years, how is it that you made love to me last night outside the confounds of a marriage?"

He looked at her thoughtfully. He stood and walked to get a towel. Elizabeth could not take her eyes off of his body, so hard, so cut, so beautiful, masculine. She had seen sculptures, she had seen workers in the fields without a shirt, but Mr. Darcy was a man formed so beautifully it took her breath away. She found herself leaning her arm on the edge of the tub lost in her musings of his beauty.

He dried his body and walked over to her to hand her out of the tub, a towel over his arm. "I have no idea. I really did not think about anything but being with you. The thought that he had harmed you… I needed to make you mine. Elizabeth…" He was standing before her naked, looking into her eyes, her very soul and it shook her sense of reality. She could see that he was examining his actions. He wrapped that large towel around her, rubbing her to keep her warm.

"I must be honest with you. At first, I knew that I had to make you mine. To take back what I thought Wickham had stolen. Once I realized that I, that you were still intact I did hesitate. We could have waited. So here it is honestly. I just pain could not wait another moment to make you mine. Propriety, all sense of right and wrong was just out the window. You were there in my arms and … you said to me that any child you bear would me mine. Mine, my lovely Elizabeth would be mine. I needed you." He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her with a tenderness she did not know could exist. "I can not tell you how thankful I am that I got there in time."

She started to cry, "I am too. I am too."

He lifted her chin and kissed her lips, "Come, your father awaits us."

He wrapped her in a huge robe, obviously from the size, his. He led her to his room. A huge wardrobe was against the far wall. He opened it and said with boyish charm, "Ta Da!"

She laughed. There were dresses, about a dozen or so. Coats, shoes, drawers with stockings and chemises. "How did this come about?"

"My sister loves to shop. I loathe it. But there is a shop girl of your size. I remember dancing with you, holding your waist when I lifted you over a fence. I had them made to suit my fantasies of you." He reached for a creamy white silk gown. "I know it may be presumptuous but, this would do for a wedding gown? Yes?"

Indeed, it was lovely. "Oh William. As I said, I did not know. My father will go into shock if I come down the stairs in that."

Darcy nodded. "Take your time. I shall shave and get dressed." He left her to her toilet. She thumbed through the dresses, shocked and amazed. She picked out a yellow gown with a green waistband. It was of fine muslin. She laid it on the bed. She walked to the dressing table and sat, looking at the brush. Her initials were engraved in the silver handle. This man was and had been in love with her for some time, just so sure that she would love him in return. How arrogant. How presumptuous, how very selfish and…She looked up in the mirror at her bruised face. Her chin was indeed bruised; her eye had settled but still was blue at the temple and slightly puffy. He would have made love to her, claiming her child as his, even if Wickham had done his worst. He was a good man, an arrogant, presumptuous proud man but he was a good man. The very best of men. A sweet and silly man, a generous man, a devoted man, an innocent, chaste and good, good man. She just smiled and laughed at herself as she shed more tears.

A maid entered to help her with her hair. Her face was dusted with rice powder over the bruises. Her gown was on, her hair piled in a soft elegant style on her head. She looked in the mirror and saw a very happy woman before her. Darcy knocked on the door. "Are you ready Elizabeth?"

She opened the door and took his hand, "Yes."

He shook his head and smiled at her, "No, no you are not." She looked down at her gown, puzzled. Darcy knelt on the floor in front of her, there in the hall before their door and pulled a ring out of his pocket. Taking her hand he looked up at her pleading, "You will marry me?"

He eased the ring on her finger as she nodded. "I really have no choice."

He looked up at her with those eyes; those beautiful blue eyes that she just lost herself in. She saw doubt, uncertainty, "If you had a choice, what would your answer be?"

He was afraid. She could see it. Taking his face in her hands and bending slightly to deliver a kiss, "Yes, yes, yes…a thousand times yes."

His beautiful face relaxed into a breathtaking smile and she gasped, "You really should not smile like that, you are far too handsome when you do so."

He stood and took her hand to his arm, "That smile is yours and yours alone."


End file.
